


The Only One Going Home

by mywasteddream



Series: Turning Point Series [2]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Original Character Death(s), appearance of Ohno and other Johnny's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywasteddream/pseuds/mywasteddream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Sakurai just joined the town’s squad for a little more than a month. This was his first forest scan for dead bodies. One of those found led him to meet Matsumoto for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only One Going Home

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed.

Ohno - the young one, not the father - was the one who found the dead body that morning. He was actually only accompanying several police officers for a scan, being a native of the area and had spent his childhood in and out of the forest.

“Sakurai-san,” he nudged the detective who was walking nearest to him and pointed towards the corpse. It was still new, no signs of putrefaction. The body was hanging on a branch, quite high above the ground. A red and blue tie was the only thing that kept it there. It was a man, he was wearing dark grey suits with black stripes. One of the shoes was put neatly under the tree, with a sock folded inside it. The other shoe was gone, but a matching sock was found a few meters away.

Another police, Captain Joshima, told Sakurai to take picture of the dead body and Ohno could see discomfort in his face. Detective Sakurai just joined the town’s squad for a little more than a month. This was his first forest scan for dead bodies. He came from the city, born in one of the 23 wards of Tokyo, they said. Rumors said that he was a child of a bureaucrat. Of why he was stranded in that sleepy little town was unknown to Ohno.

“Take him down,” Captain Joshima told Yasuda, one of the people from fire squad, to climb up and put him down.

“We have a phone here,” said Nishikido, the only person from forensics that went with the company. He waved a black old phone and the captain took it.

“No wallet, no ID,” said Nishikido again after going through the body, “I’ll try checking his prints in case we can hit something.”

The captain opened the phone and checked through. “Sakurai,” he handed the phone to the new detective who hurried wear his gloves and took the phone, “There is one mail there. Contact that person in case Nishikido cannot get anything from the print. It would be good if we can return this one to his family.”

That body was the only one among three dead bodies they found in their sweep. The other two had dried up, and neither had identification nor suicide letter. They were burned in the local crematorium, using money from tax, without anyone paying respect aside from the kind Budhist monk who chanted for them and Sakurai who felt guilty for not coming. Other police officers said he’d get over it one day and stop coming. Sakurai promised himself otherwise.

 

Nishikido’s check on the fingerprint database was fruitless. So the next morning Sakurai called the phone number written in the e-mail signature and was greeted by a rather nasal voice.

“Matsumoto-san,” Sakurai started, “This is Sakurai Sho from Shizuoka Prefectural Police. I would like to ask you for your cooperation. Is it alright to talk to you now?”

“Uh, yes?” the answer came with a hint of caution.

“We need your help to identify a dead body,” Sakurai continued again, “It is completely voluntary, but we would be very grateful if you could cooperate with us. You are the only name that we have to find his identity.”

“Uh, wait,” there was a noise from the other side of the phone, “Mm, this is not a joke, right?” Matsumoto said again, and there was a bitter chuckle at the end of his sentence.

Sakurai was a little irked to hear that accusation, but if he were Matsumoto, he would probably cursed the caller for making prank and turn off the phone. He was thankful that the person on the other side was being very patient.

“I can assure you that this is not a joke, Matsumoto-san,” he said calmly, mentioning his rank and name of office branch, and if Matsumoto-san would like to check, he could find the station’s phone number on the internet and ask for Detective Sakurai.

“Right,” the other side spoke again, a cough, and, “Let me go somewhere else.” And then there is a muffled sound which Sakurai could still hear as, “I don’t know, someone from Shizuoka, it seems important.” Then there was a noise of door being opened and closed two times with a short span of time in between.

“I’m sorry,” Matsumoto said again in the end, “I just don’t want to be known receiving phone call from the police at the office.” He sound apologetic. “Could you say again what I can do for you?”

 

Two days after, Matsumoto came to the morgue to identify the body. Takazaki Ryuta was the name that he said. An acquaintance. A lab mate in the university. They had not met for more than four years already. “Takazaki-san got a job in Sapporo. He never came to the reunion,” he said, his eyes not leaving the dead body before him. He seemed to brace himself to keep steady.

And Nishikido pushed the white cloth back over the deceased’s face and closed the cooler box where the body was kept.

Sakurai gestured the guest to go out of the morgue, to a more comfortable part of the office where they could sit down and he could ask for more details. He felt sorry for Matsumoto, who generously took a leave from his office to identify the body only to find an acquaintance of his had committed suicide.

“Could you tell me how he died?” his voice was cracked.

“He hung himself using his necktie,” Sakurai explained slowly, "in the forest not far from here." The said forest was visible from that very office, on the other side of the valley where the small town lay. “One of our volunteer found him here.” And he gestured on a map, but not showing the exact position. It would be left for the deceased’s family, if they ever could find them.

“No suicide letter found,” Sakurai continued again, “the only thing we found in his pocket was his phone, and everything was deleted, except for your e-mail. The reunion invitation was the only e-mail in the mailbox.” He dropped his sight towards the table. Even if he had two years of experience as a police officer, this is the first time he had to explain about death, and to tell the truth, the sweep was the first time he ever saw dead bodies on site. He wondered why he had to face Matsumoto alone without more experienced officers - because Nishikido was not a help at all.

A frown that appeared on the guest’s face and his tightened hand made him realized what he might have suggested. “I did not imply…,” he hurried saying, but Matsumoto waved his hand to stop him from talking.

The man before him took his phone and gave him a contact person from the university who might be able to help the police to find the Takazaki’s parents. He would help contacting them too, he said again. Another kind gesture that betrayed the strong features of his face.

 

“Thank you for your assistance,” Sakurai said, keeping his voice level and formal, at the end of their meeting that day, “He might be the only one going back home among the ones we found that day.” He paused, “Would you like to get some coffee? As a form of my gratitude. Most of the time we fail to identify those that we found.” 

Matsumoto raised his face, he had been looking down on the way out from the office building.

“Thank you, but I just want to go home now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea about Japanese police hierarchy.  
> And Nishikido as forensic, because he played one in Joker.


End file.
